


Settling In

by poludeuces



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: M/M, something fluffier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poludeuces/pseuds/poludeuces
Summary: Li Shuwen and Beowulf settle down after a long day at Chaldea.





	Settling In

Each servant had their own way of settling down after a long day.

Beowulf smiled and nodded at Diarmuid, who was carrying a very drunk Fionn and Cu Chulainn on each arm. Diarmuid mouthed, ‘I’m good’, and continued down the hall. Fionn started slapping Diarmuid’s back and the brunette snapped back at him.

The pack of little girls ran past him, pushing him into the wall. Jack led the charge, followed by the younger Jeanne Alter and behind them Paul Bunyan. Nursery Rhyme trailed and stopped to bow at him. “Sorry Mr. Beowulf sir!” 

“You’re going to miss Shakespoore’s story if you take too long!” Jack screamed back at her.

“I don’t think that’s how you say his name,” the small Jeanne corrected.

Jack shrugged her shoulders, “Who cares?” She began running again, and Nursery Rhyme picked up her pace so that she could keep up.

He passed the dining hall and poked his head inside. The servants who had just come back from farming missions were quickly munching down food. Medea and Circe were bickering amongst themselves. Paracelsus was trying to convince Mephistopheles to drink whatever concoction was in his test tube. _Must have been an assassin event,_ Beowulf thought to himself.

From the kitchen Emiya poked his head out, wiping his hands on his apron. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked, “There’s still some food left if you want seconds.”

Beowulf waved his head, “I’m good.” At Emiya’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “I’m going to get some sweets right now, anyways.” 

Emiya nodded and gave a knowing smile. Turning on his heel, he retreated back into the kitchen.

Beowulf had been in Chaldea now for a while. He had slowly started to make friends. His master had originally paired him up with the other berserkers, spending time doing easy farming quests with them as he was strengthened up. He did enjoy a lot of his fellow class servants—he could probably go to the Alter Cu Chulainn and hang out at that moment, or the horned Ibraki Douji for some drinks. He even got to know some of the dragons of Chaldea and found himself fancying the quietness of Siegfried and the spunk of Elizabeth.

However, there was one person he found himself spending the most time with.

He had not considered that he would get along with the lancer he had fought all the way back in America.

Beowulf reached his destination. He gave the door a single knock and it opened with a mechanical swish sound. Waiting for him there was the red lancer.

“Good evening,” Li Shuwen said, “Will you be joining me again tonight?”

Beowulf smirked, taking a step inside the room. The door closed behind him. However, he was not filled with a feeling of being trapped, but rather welcome. The heat of the room enveloped him, the smell of tea dancing across his nose. It felt like a warm, familiar hug that surrounded him completely. 

“If you’ll let me,” Beowulf answered. Li Shuwen gestured to the pillow across from him in response.

They had been doing this for a couple of weeks now. Unless their master needed them, they would spend most of the day in the sparring rooms fighting. Day in and out they would match each other’s fists, enraptured in brawl. Only stopping once Kiyohime would bring lunch, they spend the day training together. Then around dinnertime they would break off to shower and eat with their respective classes. Once Beowulf finished his dinner and cleaned up a little, he would find himself in Li Shuwen’s room, who would be waiting on the floor with some tea and sweets.

Li Shuwen carefully pours him some tea and Beowulf cradles it in his lap, stealing one of the cookies and making quick work of it. 

“I see you’ve been training with that rider,” Li Shuwen comments as he sips some of his tea.

Beowulf raises his eyebrow. “How did you know?”

The lancer grins into his cup. “I think that’s the first time you’ve tried to… _‘suplex’_ me is it?” 

Beowulf laughs. “C’mon, if I don’t bring something new to the table, how am I supposed to beat you?” 

“Perhaps you should have asked to be summoned into the saber class if you wish to ever beat me. Or maybe next time you should ask the master to strengthen you with their command seals-”

Beowulf waved his hand, “Okay okay! I get it! You’re the best, I see I see, O ‘No Second Strike Needed’.”

Li Shuwen shook his head but said nothing, simply reaching for a roll and taking a couple of bites. They fell into a comfortable silence, the only noises being distant screams further down the hall and the soft whine of his kettle. 

His room was just like him; red and sharp. There were rules set up for designing rooms—nothing that could potentially be a fire hazard—and Li Shuwen was one of the few servants who followed these rules. He had some paintings and posters from what Beowulf assumed was home, along with some intricate light shades and rugs. He had a secret stash of sweets and tea somewhere, but despite Beowulf’s best attempts he had never been able to find its whereabouts. 

And sitting on his night stand was the radio.

Beowulf was an old servant. He was synonymous with old Kings and times of magical fairies and spirits. He was the basis for some of the other servants that wandered the halls of Chaldea. While he had been given an understanding of the world of today, it was still foreign to him. Dr. Roman, the kind soul, had made his door with a key instead of the passcode like most servants. 

Li Shuwen, on the other hand, had died less than a century ago. While he was not as good as those who acted as vessels for servants, or the inventors Tesla and Edison, he was still able to maneuver technology very well. Beowulf had made a habit of coming to him whenever he didn’t understand something—learning how the kettle worked so he could help Nursery Rhyme for her tea parties, or the microwave so he could make some late-night snacks. He could often be found training with earbuds in, and he had taken an interest in some of Waver’s video games.

Yet, the radio was his favourite. 

“I used to have one of these during my life,” Li Shuwen had explained, rubbing the wood like an old friend. “I’m surprised Da Vinci found one this old.” He daintily touched the dials as if he was afraid that if he was too strong it would break. “I would spend many nights settling down and listening to the radio.”

“Then, why don’t we try it out?” Beowulf suggested.

The reception from Chaldea was weak. Most of the time nothing but static would come through. Dr. Roman explained that even if they had been able to get anything, there might not even be radio because of the current state of the world. The first couple of weeks they tried every day, hoping that there would be something besides the deafening static. 

They stopped after a while.

Li Shuwen caught Beowulf eying the radio and patted it. “Would you like to try again tonight?”

Beowulf snapped out of his daydream. He thought for a second and nodded, “Yeah, let’s try.”

The lancer reached over and flicked the power button. The room was filled with the familiar sound of white noise. He turned down the volume so that it did not overpower them. Slowly and carefully, he turned the dial. He looked like a safe-cracker; patiently turning and listening for any sliver of sound in the fog. 

Beowulf’s eyes settled on the display. They were running out of possible channels. 

As they neared the end, Li Shuwen sighed, “I guess this is another fai-”

Before he finished, a soft crackle of life came through. Faintly, a voice speaking Spanish came through. They had somehow caught what appeared to be Chilean radio. Li Shuwen turned the volume up again, and music flowed into the room.

Li Shuwen settled back onto the floor, his cup in his lap. He closed his eyes and smiled, listening to the music from the radio.

Beowulf watched him, admiring the soft smile on his lips, and the subtle movements he made with the music. He truly looked like an old soul like this, despite being summoned as his younger self. Sitting with tea and slowly rocking with the music, Beowulf suddenly felt a pull in him as he watched him.

It was the same pull he had had when Li Shuwen stood above him in America, when he had been beaten.

It was the same pull he had had when, upon being summoned, Li Shuwen asked him to spar.

They were not fighting, yet—Beowulf found himself drawn to this red lancer.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Li Shuwen asked, his eyes still closed. “To settle down after a long day and listen to the radio.”

 _That’s not what’s nice about it,_ Beowulf thought, but simply smiled.

“Yes, it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello  
> I've liked LiWolf for a long time now. I wanted to thus write something for them. This was based on a little headcanon thing, and I asked if people would be interested in it as a fic, and thus here we are!  
> I hope you enjoyed!


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